{"id":8737,"date":"2020-11-10T06:18:34","date_gmt":"2020-11-10T11:18:34","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/?p=8737"},"modified":"2020-11-05T23:08:46","modified_gmt":"2020-11-06T04:08:46","slug":"poetry-for-the-day-sentiments-for-the-ages","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/?p=8737","title":{"rendered":"Poetry for the day; sentiments for the ages"},"content":{"rendered":"

Here are three remarkable poems that capture the solemn and significant essence of Remembrance Day. These poems express sentiments for the ages.<\/em><\/p>\n

\"Timberline<\/p>\n

For the Fallen – Laurence Binyon<\/strong><\/p>\n

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
\nEngland mourns for her dead across the sea.
\nFlesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
\nFallen in the cause of the free.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
\nSings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
\nThere is music in the midst of desolation
\nAnd a glory that shines upon our tears.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
\nStraight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
\nThey were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
\nThey fell with their faces to the foe.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
\nAge shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
\nAt the going down of the sun and in the morning
\nWe will remember them.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
\nThey sit no more at familiar tables of home;
\nThey have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
\nThey sleep beyond England’s foam.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
\nFelt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
\nTo the innermost heart of their own land they are known
\nAs the stars are known to the Night;<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
\nMoving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
\nAs the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
\nTo the end, to the end, they remain.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"poppies-2\"<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In Flanders Fields – John McRae<\/strong><\/p>\n

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
\nBetween the crosses, row on row,
\nThat mark our place; and in the sky
\nThe larks, still bravely singing, fly
\nScarce heard amid the guns below.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

We are the Dead. Short days ago
\nWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
\nLoved and were loved, and now we lie
\nIn Flanders fields.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
\nTo you from failing hands we throw
\nThe torch; be yours to hold it high.
\nIf ye break faith with us who die
\nWe shall not sleep, though poppies grow
\nIn Flanders fields.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"poppies\"<\/p>\n

Dulce et decorum est – Wilfred Owen<\/strong><\/p>\n

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
\nKnock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
\nTill on the haunting flares we turned our backs
\nAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.
\nMen marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
\nBut limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
\nDrunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
\nOf tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
\nGas! Gas! Quick, boys! \u2013 An ecstasy of fumbling,
\nFitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
\nBut someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
\nAnd flound’ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
\nDim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
\nAs under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
\nIn all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
\nHe plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
\nIf in some smothering dreams you too could pace
\nBehind the wagon that we flung him in,
\nAnd watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
\nHis hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
\nIf you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
\nCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
\nObscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
\nOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
\nMy friend, you would not tell with such high zest
\nTo children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,
\nThe old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
\nPro patria mori.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

(ed. – DULCE ET DECORUM EST are the first words of a Latin saying taken from an ode by Horace. These words were often quoted at the start of the First World War. They mean “It is sweet and right.” The full saying ends the poem: \u201cDulce et decorum est pro patria mori\u201d which is \u201cIt is sweet and right to die for your country.\u201d)<\/em><\/p>\n

.<\/p>\n

Chris George, providing reliable PR & GR counsel and effective advocacy. Need a go-to writer and experienced communicator? 613-983-0801 @<\/em> CG&A COMMUNICATIONS<\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Here are three remarkable poems that capture the solemn and significant essence of Remembrance Day. These poems express sentiments for the ages. For the Fallen – Laurence Binyon With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children, England mourns for her dead across the sea. Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit, Fallen…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[8,11],"tags":[18,38],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8737"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8737"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8737\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":12324,"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8737\/revisions\/12324"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8737"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8737"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bygeorgejournal.ca\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8737"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}